Trapped
by Ayakashi
Summary: Harry Potter and Riddle. SLASH, don't like it, dont read! Falling in love with the one you are prophesized to murder or be murdered by is not easy... ON HIATUS! Very OOC and being rewritten.


_TRAPPED_: A Tom Riddle X Harry Potter Slashfic.

Stupid Summary thingy: (I suck at these, read the story anyway!) Harry is sent to the past and there he meets the young, sarcastic, and not to mention extremely handsome, to-be-Darklord. And there a great power acts upon them. Love.

But it's not easy. Falling in love with the man you are prophesized to murder or be murdered by. . .

Note: The formatting on this story got messed up. The lines don't work straight and some of the italics left. I dunno what's up with it, and I can't fix it. Oh well, please read anyway!

_WELCOME TO THE PAST_

---x--x--x--x--

Harry yelped in pain. He slapped his hand to his cheek, feeling the cut and wet tissue against his skin. Blood dripped down his palm.

"How do like the _pain_?" Voldemort spat. "_CRUCIO_!"

Harry felt the burning fire enter his veins— his limbs shook and something pounded in his head like a mallet. Spears of lightning struck him down, pins of agony cut through his vision— Harry didn't cry out, but bit his lip hard— the metallic taste of blood in his mouth was too far off—

Harry shuddered. He very slowly inched his head up and glared directly into Voldemort's slitted red eyes. He whispered hatefully, "You sick bastard—"

Lord Voldemort sneered. "_AVADA_—"

"SILENCIO!—"

"—PROTEGO!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!—"

"—ACCIO!"

Voldemort stepped back, panting. Harry grasped his chest in pain but refused to lower his wand. Their duel was in a stalemate.

"Patience is a virtue. . ." Voldemort was saying. "—_that I don't have time for_. Prepare to die." He twiddled with his wand while Harry stared at him, with his wand at the ready.

"This ancient spell will force you into reliving your worst _memories_— while you drown and writhe in them I will _kill_ you." Suddenly he bellowed something and a silver streak of light shot at Harry's chest— it was the memory spell—

Harry pulled his wand out, and yelled something that he had never planned to say. It just made sense,

"PRIOR INCANTATO—"

Like last time they'd dueled, the gray rays slammed into the silver ones— a blinding white light exploded— Wind whipped up— Harry's hand covered his eyes on instinct as the white light burned through his arms— through his eye lids— its brightness pierced his skull—

Harry fell backwards, hard. He slammed into something sharp and felt his body heave and shudder in pain. Suddenly the bright light faded and everything was soaked in pitch darkness.

—x—x—x—x—

What seemed like hours later, Harry grew aware of being awake? First came the pain— a pounding in the back of his skull and a searing scar. Then came the feeling of cold stone against his cheek and the sensation of hard floor underneath him. Finally, Harry opened his eyes, slid his glasses up his nose, and looked around him.

He was standing in an empty corridor, with walls of dark gray stone and a torch glinting dimly at the end of the hall. The walls were blank and there were no windows. It looked like the dungeons in Hogwarts…

But there were tons of dungeons all over the world! How could he know for sure?

"WHERE AM I?" Harry bellowed angrily, his voice traced with slight fear.

_Voldemort had said that the spell would make me relive my_ _worst memories and then he'd kill me while I was_ _shrieking out in pain in the past. . . hmmm. . . but I_ _don't have any memories in dungeons! Maybe he wants me_ _to relive a memory in the dungeon with Snape, there's_ many_ unpleasant one's of those. . . but those memories_ _aren't bad enough to have me screaming and crying out_ _in pain and terror!— _

_So am I in a memory? It SEEMS real enough . . . but_ _then again his spell probably didn't work because I blocked it! But maybe my spell wasn't strong enough to stop his entirely—what's going on!_

The boy-who-lived made his way across the corridor, towards only sign of exit, a plain wooden door. Harry pulled on the door, which slid soundlessly open, and Harry walked into a square room with a few desks near the back, and a magical lime-green chalk board. It was definitely a classroom of some sort.

So this _was_ Hogwarts. Why else would there be a classroom in a dungeon?

Well, he didn't want to dawdle and didn't care enough to investigate. Harry walked towards the door but when he twisted the handle he realized that it was

Locked! _Weird_. . . "_ALOHAMORA_!" —Nothing happened.

_There's another door across the classroom_. Harry realized and reached his hand out, hoping that the second door wasn't locked too— He barely had the metal under his fingers when the

door was suddenly yanked backwards and someone crashed into him.

"GOOD!" A voice bellowed. "And stay there!"

The door slammed, and Harry heard the lock click, but was too busy clutching his once-again broken glasses to his nose and saying "ow" to care.

"Sorry." Another voice mumbled. It was the boy who had been thrown into the room beside Harry.

Harry blinked, wondering who had spoken. He leaned into the torch light for a better view of the boy— a second later he pulled back with a gasp.

He was _definitely_ in the past. The spell had undoubtedly sent him back— half a century to be exact, even if he _could_ be seen and heard— it was a memory.

The other boy frowned, "Is something wrong?"

"Uh. . ." Harry glared into the brown eyes of Tom Riddle and flinched. "_No_."

The younger version of Voldemort sighed. He brushed his dark bangs out of his golden-brown eyes then rested his long-fingered hand behind him on the floor as he stretched out, exhibiting a tall and slim form. He seemed about the same age as Harry, sixteen. "I don't think that I've seen you before— who are you? I am presently known as Tom Riddle."

Harry wasn't sure how to act. At first he wanted to kill the man who killed his parents— _would_ kill— it hadn't happened yet, had it? So Voldemort didn't know who Harry, his downfall, was— oh, it was all so messed up!

Harry hid his confusion and spoke quickly.

"I'm Har— Neville. I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Which house are you in?"

"Gryffindor."

"—Slytherin." Riddle nodded. "Alright then. . ."

"Why are you here? Where are we? Where _IS_ here?" Harry interrupted.

Riddle frowned. "Well, we're in the east dungeons. I'm here for a detention I don't deserve— this is the _Slytherin_ detention area. Why are you here, _Gryffindor_?"

"East dungeons in Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked.

Riddle snorted. "Where else?"

Harry laughed sarcastically. "Of course we are. . . Anyway, I'm here because —I— Uh— I talked back at the teacher." That seemed likely enough, considering that it happened on a regular every-day basis. "—And for some reason, she sent me to the Slytherin detention room, I guess. I dunno." He turned away to fix his glasses and change the topic. "_REPARO_!"

Riddle shrugged and watched him incantate. He still looked slightly suspicious, though reluctantly he didn't press on. "Whatever. . ." He shot Harry a mischievous glance. "So, are you planning on _staying_ here all night or what?"

Harry blinked. "Huh? Since when do detentions go _all_ night_—" This is fifty years ago—_ Harry remembered. _Detentions were run differently back then!_

Riddle hadn't even heard Harry mumbling confusedly: He was too busy reaching inside to pull out the wand that was brothers with Harry's.

"Well?" Riddle stood up and pointed his wand at the lock.

Harry stared at the wand. If Voldemort wanted— he could kill Harry, right here and now and save himself years of roaming bodiless in a fate worse then death!

But he wasn't. . .

"If we left." Harry mumbled, trying to sound unconcerned. He wanted to get back to the future, not out of detention! _I guess I'll just have to play along_... "Where would we go? I mean, our— our friends— would notice if we came back the common room when we're supposed to stay all night in detention."

Riddle laughed. Unlike in the Chamber of Secrets, this time the fine hairs on the back of Harry's neck didn't lift. "Common room— and what do you mean by '_friends_?' Neville, use your brain!"

"Uh. . ."

"_I'm_ getting out of here. I don't care what a foolish Gryffindor would do." Riddle shrugged. He pointed his wand at the lock. "ALOHAMORA!"

He twisted the handle eagerly but it didn't open. Riddle sighed and muttered something in a low breath that Harry couldn't distinguish and with a loud snap the door swung open.

Riddle was about to slam the door behind him when Harry caught the door with his foot and glared up at the taller boy. "I'm coming."

Riddle shrugged again and Harry followed him through the dim-lit halls.

—x—x—x—x—

"Lumos!" Harry whispered as they climbed through the darkened halls. They had been wandering for what seemed like twenty minutes, and Harry couldn't see a thing!

Riddle paused in his fast stride and glared behind him. He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry's, "NOX! —You stupid Gryffindor! We'll get caught if you do that— just simply use your eyes, it's not too dark!"

"—Sorry." Harry said quickly, fidgeting under uneasily Riddle's eerie pale-brown gaze.

Riddle nodded, and suddenly pushed against the door in front of them lightly— Moonlight spilled forward.

"What—"

"We're going outside." Riddle said briskly.

"Where—"

Riddle shot him an irritated glare. "Will you shut the hell up? Why, you should be glad that I'm letting you tag along. The Forbidden Forest of course!"

"What!" Harry stopped walking. "We can't go in there—"

"What, are you afraid?" Riddle's eyes now glinted rusty reddish brown, close to a dark shade of blood, in the moonlight. "Are you too afraid to break the rules— if you are, return. I do not care. You can even tell the teachers that I left, because I will be back and there will be no proof of my escape."

Harry blinked, not understanding. "I'm not afraid!"

"Then prove yourself and come with me, Longbottom."

"I—"

"Well— are you afraid or not?"

"I. AM. NOT. AFRAID!" Harry seethed.

Riddle whipped around, walking into the foreboding darkness of the trees.

Harry followed, unsure why, as it made no common sense, any of it.

—x—x—x—x—

The young Voldemort sat in the leaves. They were in a clearing, rather deep in the woods. It was very unnerving for Harry, being here at night, with his only source of guidance as the person who had killed his parents and he knew to be a murderer and his worst enemy. One day he'd have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort would kill him— if Riddle knew this, he could have killed Harry any of these moments— thankfully, he didn't seem to.

Riddle pulled out his wand. Harry flinched. Riddle didn't notice.

"LUMOS!" A bright white light lit up the clearing. The tip of the wand flared so vividly that the trees cast shadows, and it hurt the eyes to look at the wand itself.

Harry gasped; he'd never seen such a strong _Lumoes Spell_ in his life! He whispered the spell himself, and glared at the spark sitting on the end of his wand, comparing it to the supernova that Riddle's was. His own spell was drowning in the light of Riddle's! How could such a simple spell be so strong? Riddle— no, he was Voldemort— was amazing!

"—Come to me." Riddle was saying.

"HUH?" Harry blinked, and then realized that Riddles wasn't talking to him. "Who are you calling?" Harry asked, whipping around.

Riddle jumped, as if he had forgotten about Harry. Then his pale-brown eyes widened and he stared at Harry as if he was an extra-terrestrial being.

"You— you- understood what I said!"

Harry frowned. "Sure, you were calling something. You said 'come to me.'"

Riddle gawked. It was another emotion that totally disturbed Harry— Lord Voldemort— looking surprised and stupefied?

"I thought that I was the only parsel-mouth at Hogwarts!" Riddle stammered.

Realization hit Harry like a dart, sudden but sure. Riddle has been speaking parsel-tongue, the language of the snakes, not English! _Dammit, _he thought, _I should have kept_ _my mouth shut—_

Riddle was staring at him over his shoulder at Harry, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, with a sharp hissing, a giant snake slithered into the clearing. Harry watched the creature come, and felt the urge to run and shriek like a girl.

It was maybe thirty feet long, giant, with green eyes as bright as Harry's— like the shining emerald fire of floo powder. And its scales were midnight black, shimmering in the light like silver, and yet they were darker then the present pitch sky.

It was a horrible creature, big, venomous, and dangerous. And yet, it was one of the most beautiful creatures Harry had ever seen, quick, lethal, shining dark, and strong. Harry could see why Salazar has chosen the serpent as the creature to represent his house.

"What do you think of Kumori?" Riddle asked.

"Kumori?" Harry asked, secretly awed.

Riddle rolled those golden-honey colored eyed. "It means 'shadows or clouds' in Japanese."

Harry shrugged, he didn't care what it meant, what he did care about was that snake! He got up slowly, as if in a trance, and kneeled before the lengthy giant.

Harry looked into the eerie slit-green eyes that reflected his own eye-color like an emerald mirror. He held his breath and wrapped his hand around the giant snake's side— his hand was sliding down the smooth black scales— the snake hissed and nuzzled into his side. Harry laughed and stared at the grand and very intimidating snake.

Riddle watched from the sides, amusement playing on

his smirking lips. "Well, Longbottom. You're better with the serpents then I had expected you to be. . ."

Riddle slipped across the clearing, haughty and slow, as if waiting to attack, like a serpent himself. He stood a few yards away, watching Harry and the snake bond.

After a few moments Harry was aware of Riddle's gaze on him. He wished the pre-Voldemort would look elsewhere— it was disturbing— no, it wasn't _disturbing_, rather intimidating, Harry actually didn't mind Riddle's gaze on his back. Rather, he rater _liked_ it— _why_ though, he wasn't sure . . . it was all so confusing… Harry glanced at Riddle, finally tearing his gaze away from the black snake.

The taller boy was watching him through his gold eyes that shined unnaturally in the moonlight. His bangs fell into those amber eyes in the way teenage-Sirius's had, a rowdy but very hot look that Harry could never have achieved.

Riddle stepped a foot closer and Harry was suddenly aware of how his enemies past form differed form his present own. Instead of being short and lanky as Harry was, Riddle's body was well-sculpted and strong, slim but strong– Harry blinked_. Why the_ _hell was he thinking this!_

Riddle seemed unaware of Harry's complementary thoughts. The snake slithered back towards it's original master and snuggled up against him, too. Riddle dropped down into the leaves and stroked the serpent longingly.

"_Who is he?"_ Riddle asked the snake, in parsel-tongue, knowing that Harry could hear. _"Is this new boy as_ _strong as he seems? Should we befriend him or leave_ _him alone to fend for himself in the night?"_

Harry watched silently.

The serpent coiled it's thirty-foot self in the clearing. "The first. . . Harry Potter," It hissed. "He is one that—"

"Huh?" Riddle interrupted, and in English. "Harry Potter? —Who?"

Harry inhaled nervously. He tried to reach over and slap the snake's neck in order to get it to shut up—

"The boy. The second master."

Riddle stood quickly. He addressed Harry in a quick and toneless manner. "So— is it Longbottom or Potter, boy? You'd better clear things up."

"It's—" Harry sighed, ready to lie, but then remembered the fiery wand-tip that lit the clearing like a sun itself and the power it carried. "—Potter."

"Why did you lie?" Riddle snapped, furious that he had been cheated, even if the cheating itself was minor.

"Uh . . . well, Neville is the name that I want. I've always loved such a name— so I tell people to call me it." Harry blinked at the stupidity of the lie and winced.

Riddle didn't look assured, his voice was mocking.

"Right, anyone wants to be called 'Longbottom'— basically meaning long ass-- _Potter_." He looked like he wanted to hex Harry for the sake of it, but threw his wand carelessly into the pocket of his torn jeans.

Riddle sighed. "Kumori doesn't want me to harm you—_yet_."

"Good." Harry said. "I agree with Kumori." He reached out and ran his fingers down the serpent's neck, it hissed like a snake's equivalent to a snake purring.

Riddle glared at Harry's hand. "So, what's your background?"

"Huh?"

"Your childhood." Riddle repeated, his tone irritant. "Are you a pure-blood?"

"Why does it matter?" Harry snapped back, his own mood lazy yet slightly angry, probably as a response to Riddle's. His own emotions were like a reflection of Voldemort's, and lately, they'd only been getting worse and more vivid.

"How pure a wizard's blood is doesn't make a damned difference!"

Riddle ignored him. Harry brushed his sweaty bangs off his face and lay back in the leaves.

Riddle was still watching him. "How'd you get that scar?"

_You did it._ Harry was tempted to say. "It's from an accident— a spell went a wry, many many years ago. I can't remember it."

"So you're a pureblood then. . ." Riddle said tiredly.

"If you experienced magic at such young an age."

"No— I'm a half-blood. Like you." Harry couldn't help saying the second half, but he liked the idea of knowing things that would stun Voldemort.

"How did you know that?" Riddle asked, startled.

"It doesn't matter. And I could tell." Said Harry gruffly. "Let's talk about your past— I don't care for my own."

"Why— did one of your parents die or something?"

"No. They both did."

Riddle frowned. "I'm sorry," and he truly looked it. It unnerved Harry— seeing _caring_, in Voldemort's eyes—

"If you don't mind me asking, how?"

Harry was hesitant. This whole time he wasn't sure how to act. "Uh, murder. A dark wizard killed them."

Harry couldn't see Riddle's face, only his long fingers as he stroked the snake is a slow and caressing movement. Harry couldn't help but wonder what those fingers would feel like on _his_ own skin—

Harry blinked and shut away the strange emotions.

"My mother was a witch. . ." Riddle said in a low and strained voice. "My father hated her, but wouldn't leave. He abused her— and me. I remember, one night—"

He shut his eyes and didn't continue.

"And?" Harry asked.

Riddle whipped around to glare at Harry suddenly. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Gryffindor—"

He snarled. "But my mother's murder has nothing to do with you. We didn't dwell on _your_ families slaying."

Harry blinked. He knew a teensy bit about Voldemort's past, but never had heard about Voldemort's mother being murdered! Didn't she die in labor or something? Was Riddle lying?

Riddle glared at Harry. After a few moments of awkward silence he finally spoke. "Why did you follow me, Gryffindor?" Riddle asked suddenly, his voice awkwardly serious.

"Why do you mean?"

"Why did you leave the school tonight— even when you knew we were going into the Wood?" He hesitated, _"Why_ _did you trust me?"_

Harry froze and looked down; his green eyes stared into the wood— at the serpent— or at his own feet and hands— everywhere but at Riddle.

"I. . . I don't know." Harry paused. "I _didn't_ trust you— and I never will! That wasn't a matter of trust anyway. All I did was prove that I didn't want to stay in the detention room!"

"I don't trust you and never will—' don't you feel that's a bit judgmental and harsh?" Riddle mocked him, and then frowned again. "A little bit too judgmental for an average Gryffindor. You don't even know me— and yet you judge me like that!"

"I know you a bit more than you think I do." Harry mumbled. I can't sense half your emotions— I actually feel them! My body reacts to your nearness, you even put part of yourself inside of me that night you scarred me— I know you very well!

Riddle stared at him. "What do you mean by that—?"

"Oh— it doesn't matter— I have reasons for not trusting you— for judging you—" Harry stood up angrily.

"What are the reasons?" Riddle countered, standing too.

Harry glared and suddenly yelped out in pain. A wave of something came over him— it was far-off and dizzying, something was pounding in his head which ached horribly— his scar seared.

Harry shut his eyes. Voldemort's emotions. Confusion. But maybe it wasn't the Dark Lord's— was he feeling Riddle's?—

Riddle was watching him. Harry released his shaking hands and avoided Riddle's gaze.

"What was that?"

"What?" Harry blinked, his eyes blurry with pain and tears, and tried to look innocent and uncaring.

"That— you just clutched your forehead and I saw something—"

Harry brushed his bangs back, feeling his scar sear again as he touched it lightly, and wiped the sweat from pain on his forearm.

"That. . ." Riddle lifted his hand to point and lowered it slowly, ". . . Scar. Do you know which spell you got it from? You claim not to remember, but I bet you've ask questions… which spell?"

Harry hesitated yet again. It couldn't hurt if he told, could it? "Oh, why does it matter?"

"What spell." Riddle said firmly.

Harry sighed, "Uh. . . Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse..."

Riddle stared at him.

Harry gasped. He shouldn't have said that! You don't get a scar from a spell that doesn't hit you— It didn't take a genius dark wizard to figure out, all it took was common sense, and unfortunately the wizard in front of Harry was both. Riddle would understand that if Harry had been hit with the killing curse— he should have died! And he didn't. . .

"I don't want to talk about this, ok?" Said Harry.

Riddle's face was unreadable. He turned back to snake and whispered something that Harry could hear but didn't care to listen to.

It was getting very late. . . and dark out. The sky was pitch-black, the only source of light was the two Lumoes Spells, and the eyes and scales of the serpent reflecting them.

Harry yawned. Riddle glanced at him, "If you're tired, sleeping right here would be advised. We'll have to wake early to get back to detention— Kumori will watch for predators in the night. Nothing, not even a werewolf, can get past her, so it's safe."

"Except if _she_ eats us." Harry said, half sarcastically.

"Why would she do that?" Riddle said seriously. He didn't seem to get the joke about the man-eating snake. We parsel-mouths aren't normal people. Even if you're in Gryffindor."

Harry ignored Riddle.

After a few minutes he shit his eyes and collapsed in the dried leaves. He was worn-out and tired, but sleeping in the same clearing the Forbidden Forest with a giant serpent and the man that one day he would have to kill or be killed by would not be an easy task.

—x—x—x—x—

A/N:

That's all for now folks! Hope you liked it. I'm only gonna post more if you review, so if you want more, please review!

All flames will be used to start a floo powder fire for Harry. So don't waste time flamin' me.

--Aya Kaiba--


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